When Worlds Collide
by lark lavroc
Summary: Taiora. Kensuke. AU. A collision of two worlds leaves Taichi stranded, while Ken makes his own choices. WIP.
1. Grief

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Digimon nor it's characters, etc, etc. Digimon belongs to people I don't know. This is just a hobby and I gain no profit.  
  
Authors Note: Many thanks to Iv for the beta. ^_^ My first fanfic so constructive criticism and feedback will be very much appreciated. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: Grief  
  
  
  
Struggling rays of sunlight filtered through the heavily curtained windows and landed on the curled body covered in layers of warm blankets. Clothes were strewn in piles on the floor covering every inch of the otherwise but clean room. Hastily arranged pens and papers lay on the willow desk untouched save for a framed photo. It lay face down with dried up tear streaks covering its elaborate silver etchings.  
  
Under fluffy covers, a muffled groan stirred the deep silence. Slowly and lazily, a hand reached out from the covers and stretched towards the pillow next to it. The hand stiffened. It snapped back in disbelief, before waveringly reaching for the pillow again. Seconds stretched to minutes and minutes to hours as spidery shadows danced, spinning web-like impressions in its wake. Tan struck sharply in contrast against stark white as smooth stroking motions petted the pillow. Stifled sobs accompanied the shuddering body while an on going struggle to contain the tremors ensued.  
  
Gradually the sobs quietened until only subdued hiccups filled the silence. The body uncurled itself from its tense position and relaxed. For a long while, no movement stirred the stilled silence.  
  
~~~  
  
Biting on her lower lip worriedly, Hikari Yagami stood in front of the pale yellow door and mulled over on the next course of action. Should she disregard pleasantries and just walk through the obstructing door? Or was it better to wait until she was invited? On one hand, there might be a logical reason as to why Sora had not appeared yet. She couldn't think of one but Koushiro probably could... Shaking her head, Hikari tried to clear her mind from useless and distracting thoughts. She was here to have a talk with Sora, see how she was doing. Not stand motionlessly like some mindless idiot.  
  
Stopping the beginnings of a self-rant, it occurred to Hikari that something bad might have happened to Sora. Something self orchestrated... She left the thought unfinished. It was unthinkable. Therefore Hikari would not think it.  
  
What had happened happened. There was nothing she or Sora could do to change that. No matter how much they both wanted to. There was nothing they could do. The best thing for everyone would be to live. To finish grieving and just live out there lives.Taichi would have wanted them to live, to carry on and be content. For maybe the third time upon waking, Hikari had to swallow the sudden lump that had somehow managed to spread to her throat from the dull never ending ache that centred in her chest.  
  
Willing away unwanted tears from large brown eyes, Hikari straightened her shoulders and discreetly wiped her eyes. Gathering her determination Hikari raised her left hand prepared to knock on the stubborn unyielding door once again. And this time, loudly too. The door snapped open, just as Hikari's hand was inches away from connecting to the surface. Self consciously, Hikari pulled her hand back and tilted upwards to smile at Sora, only to have it wilt at the appearance of what used to be a beautiful vibrant face. What had been stunning and welcoming brown eyes became ravaged visages of a lifeless and stricken glare. Gorgeous russet hair once fell on broad and athletic shoulders turned into a wild disarray of ordinary brown, unkempt and stringing onto hunched defensive shoulders. What had seemed like the perfect body of an athlete became the very essence of the weak and frail.  
  
A twisted grimace appeared.  
  
Immediately, Hikari attempted to gather her wits and erode the shock. It was too apparent and Sora did not need this on top of everything else. Was it really such a surprise that Sora was still grieving? Sora and Taichi had been inseparable as children and became even closer as they grew up. From best friends to lovers. And then even more. There was nothing each would not do for the other. Taichi had been willing to and very nearly did sacrifice his spot on the national Japanese soccer team just for the sake of Sora's happiness. Sora would have taken an indefinite break as a professional tennis to be with Taichi as he toured Europe. Each would have forfeited their lives just so the other could live. For all she knew, Taichi probably did. Sora had not been very forthcoming with the events that led to his death except for the basics. She was welling up so much pain and anger inside that Hikari was afraid she would get lost and never come back.  
  
Watching Sora turn away and amble inside, Hikari stood immobile before hesitantly following her. At a glance at her surroundings Hikari could relatively say nothing had been moved. She could still see traces of Taichi in every corner and every room. From the untouched sports jersey left lying on the dark brown sofa to the white porcelain cup centred on the willow dining table. A favourite of Taichi's. For a split second a fond smile graced Hikari's face. Sora had won the dining set during last autumn festival. She and Taichi had been extremely competitive. More than usual. And Sora had been challenging Taichi at every stand she could find. The last was a simple dart throw. She could still picture the triumphant look she threw at Taichi after winning...and the you've-got-to-be-kidding look when Sora had been given cups and dishes for her 'cooking'. Hikari snickered. That had resulted in a lecture to the poor sweating man while Taichi had stood nearby, scratching his head bewilderedly.  
  
The smile withered away as Hikari snapped back to the present and realized Sora was sitting, with her back turned towards her, in Taichi's armchair. Waiting for her. Hikari briskly walked towards the sofa and carefully moved the grey soccer jersey before sitting down.  
  
"Sora..." Hikari began. She struggled to find the right words but none would come.  
  
"Yes, Hikari?" Sora raised a sardonic eyebrow. Then she sighed. "Don't bother. This is where you tell me I'm wasting my life away, right? That I've got to move on blah, blah, blah. That Taichi wouldn't have wanted me like this..that he loved me enough to want me to live. Am I getting this right, Hikari? This is what you wanted to tell me, correct?"  
  
Speechless, Hikari could only nod. Sora turned her face away in answer. "Just go, ok," resignation tinged Sora's voice.  
  
"Don't bother. Just go. Let me live here in peace," Sora suddenly pleaded.  
  
"I can't. You know I can't. I have to do this. To make you live...for Taichi," sadness emanated from Hikari. "And I want you back too, Sora. You've never been separated for long with Taichi. You and Taichi were best friends for as long as I've known the both of you...and that means me too. You were always there, Sora. Like Taichi's always been there," Hikari halted. She left the implications of what she was saying hanging, hoping Sora would grasp at those threads and bind them together.  
  
Sora could only stare, mouth opening and closing, eyes widening as realization hit and an attempt to respond was made. But only silence lingered. The threads reaching out to Sora were blocked. But not hurled back.  
  
A spark of hope flickered as Hikari regathered her forces and began another attack.  
  
"Taichi was the best brother any sister could ever have. He loved me. He protected me. Even when I didn't need it!" Hikari allowed indignation to colour her tones. Sora's lips twitched. Yes! Round one to Hikari.  
  
"And I loved him," Hikari continued. "I wanted him in my life forever. I wanted him to be around always. Just like when we were little whenever I had a nightmare, he'd always be there. Comforting me...making me laugh...protecting me..." throat closing, Hikari struggled to contain the tears threatening to swallow her whole. Sora wrapped arms around herself and closed her eyes. Round two to Hikari.  
  
"But that's not ever going to happen again. Taichi's gone, Sora. He's never going to come back. My brother's never going to come back...I've lost him," Hikari ended in a whisper. Steeling herself she continued, "But you know what Sora? As much as I'm going to miss him, cry for him, I've got to remember something too," she turned solemn eyes at Sora, "I may have lost a brother, but I haven't lost my sister."  
  
Yet, Hikari finished silently. Please, Sora. Please feel again. Don't lose yourself in grief...don't let yourself wither away in illusions...illusions of life when death had already taken it away...just...don't.  
  
Sora stared.  
  
A mournful cry shattered the silence at last, destroying the last barrier between Sora and the world, before shuddering into sobs. Round three to Hikari.  
  
Letting the held back tears travel down her face, Hikari reached for Sora. Holding onto each other both allowed their shared grief to mingle and then dissipate.  
  
Hikari tried again, knowing this time she would be successful. "You got to live. Take care of yourself. Be yourself again...only this time without Taichi."  
  
Sora's grip tightened.  
  
"I know."  
  
Hikari relaxed and let the relief wash through her. "We're going to have to clean up this place first, you know. It's a pigsty!" Hesitatingly she carried on, "Taichi's things will have to be packed away now..."  
  
"I know," Sora whispered.  
  
"But first thing's first, let's take a look at the mail." Hikari left Sora's side and reached for her handbag on the floor. "I bet you haven't even looked at it yet, have you? Not to mention the bills..."  
  
Gripping the stack of mail, she handed it to Sora. Only to receive a sniffling chuckle in return.  
  
"What?" Hikari asked innocently, widening her eyes just a little. This was a look she mastered ages past, once she had found out how effective it was. Taichi never stood a chance.  
  
Sora simply chuckled again. This time a little wistfully.  
  
Letting out a defeated sigh, Sora reached for the mail stack. She absentmindedly flipped through, sorting out the important mail and the junk mail into piles. Hikari gawked, stunned as envelope after envelope was stacked onto the important pile, speaking volumes on the amount of time Sora had shuttered herself away. Concerned, Hikari braced herself as Sora frowned at a particular envelope and then tentatively opened it. No movement stirred but Hikari was swiftly aware something was wrong. Sora had tensed up in the middle of skimming through the letter. Hands were gripping the sheet of paper tightly while the body straightened and pulled itself taut, letting the shock glaze over. One hand unclenched and attached itself to her neck, softly tugging while the other lost its grip on the sheet and vaguely rubbed her stomach. The sheet of paper drifted downwards, flowing onto the floor lost as Sora got up.  
  
Mail forgotten, Sora began going around the room in an unexpected burst of speed, picking up and collecting items. Hikari could only get a glance at the letter before her attention was once more focussed on Sora. Humming with something akin to joy, Sora put away the porcelain cup and began planning on where she might store Taichi's things.  
  
"Come on, Hikari. What are you waiting for? Let's get started!" Hikari could only blink. Speechless again at the roundabout change.  
  
Exasperated, Sora fondly called out again, "Come on, Hikari. These things won't pick themselves up, you know."  
  
Hikari chokingly snorted in amusement and shock as she gazed at the whirlwind formerly known as Sora Takenouchi. Briefly Hikari wondered what Dr Pierson could have written that would cause such a transformation. From near grief and despair to happiness and joy. Hikari shook her head, amazed as she again caught sight of the whirlwind picking up discarded clothing while dreamily rubbing her stomach. 


	2. War

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Digimon nor it's characters, etc, etc. Digimon belong to people whom I don't know. This is just a hobby and I gain no profit.

Author's Note: Just a question, is this format better than the first chap? Many thanks to Iv again. As always, all constructive criticism and feedback are appreciated. Enjoy! 

**Chapter 2: War**

Sheaths of voluminous rose-lit sunlight broke through the white panes of a window dome, encompassing the entire length of a perfectly structured room. A glow from a single lamp counteracted the brightness and added its own luminosity. Already the darkness of night invaded the twists and turns of the immaculately decorated area and the objects which inhabited it. Sitting tensely on a black leather armchair a young brunette leant forward on the makeshift wooden desk and wearily rubbed the back of his neck. Wide shoulders stretched back, knotted while a head full of bushy dark brown hair rolled back and forth, trying to lessen the stiff muscles. 

Blearily, Taichi Yagami rubbed his tired hazy eyes and tried to focus on the maps spread messily in front of him again. Frustrated, Taichi leant back on his chair and clenched his fists. Focus, focus, focus. Why can't I focus? People depend on me. Digimon depend on me. I can't let them down. Got to concentrate on these maps... got to find their next point of entry... got to protect the Digital World... Grimly, Taichi repeated his mantra and slowly forced his body into a state of relaxation, knowing the futility of his efforts if he was clouded with anger or irritation. 

Relaxing unconsciously, the lines of well-built body alleviated its rigidity and cushioned itself against the yielding surface. Tightly fisted golden hands gradually unclenched and lay deceptively pliable on lean hard thighs. Taichi stilled. He gazed at his room blankly and let the suppressed memories tide over. Recalling lazy summer days spent with a group of people who was as close to him as family was not something Taichi often did. It was in the past. And the past must be left behind if he wanted the future. So Taichi concealed these treasured memories at the back of his mind, summoning them with ease when the stress, loneliness and bleak reality of the present slipped through his carefully structured control. 

Could he really be that lonely? Taichi wondered vaguely. He still had some of his friends left with him, few as they may be. Surely it wasn't that bad... but try as he might, Taichi could not evoke any positive emotion for the remaining survivors of his group of friends. Out of all his closest friends, only Koushiro was left. And he was too busy trying to predict and counteract what the WU was up to that they barely talked about anything other than strategies and plans. Daisuke had become like a little brother to him and Taichi found he could no more unburden his uncertainties and pain than he could run towards exploding sheep. Chortling, Taichi marvelled at his attempt of a metaphor. Or a simile. Or… whatever the heck it was. 

As a big brother, Taichi held many responsibilities. One of which, was to protect. That meant being strong and steady in times of danger. It meant hiding weaknesses behind facades of strength. It meant concealing his greatest doubts and fears, and lending a shoulder to lean on whenever Daisuke needed it. Right now Daisuke needed it despite his denials. Taichi had seen the turmoil clouding in darkened brown eyes. Had seen the way his ruddy brown head bowed in defeat, the crushed stance of his tan body. But no matter how insistent Taichi was, Daisuke would always respond with a quip and a forced grin. Murmurings of how he was fine, of how he was okay, in addition with the detailed report of his day's exploits verbalised with strained relish, spoke volumes. Grounding Taichi's failure in his face and spiking Daisuke with unresolved misery. 

With a sigh, Taichi allowed himself the luxury of casting his suspicions for the source of Daisuke's distress. It always came to one thing. One person. Ken Ichijouji. 

Whatever was eating away at Daisuke, he hoped it was resolved quickly. A rift in the remaining group could cost them the Digital World. It was not an option Taichi was willing to take. Not after all they had sacrificed to maintain the resistance.  

***

_Beeeeeep._

Losing his trail of thought, Taichi snapped into action and quickly opened the communicator strapped on his left wrist. If something had happened, Taichi needed to be alert and ready. 

A pixel-sized image of Koushiro appeared on small screen.

"I have found out recent activities from our belated opponents. Please meet me at the Conference room." 

Before Taichi could open his mouth and ask what was going on Koushiro switched off his communicator, pitching the once coloured screen into pure black. Frustrated, Taichi could only slam his hand hard onto his desk. It hurt like hell, but at least it gave him some measure of satisfaction. Taichi lightly rubbed his aching palm and hurriedly shot out of the now stifling room. 

***

"Ken…" 

"Leave it, Daisuke."

"But Ken, don't you see what's happening? You're turning into… " Daisuke halted. The beseeching note waning. 

"Leave. It." The voice had turned flat. Mercifully cold and with a sharp edge, ready to strike. 

Taichi paused. His body poised, ready to intervene at the slightest hint of a threat, outside the large chamber within the menacing hallway. 

Brusque footsteps clicked heavily. The door swung forcefully back and Ken stepped out. Lips thinned dangerously on a pale face as he took notice of the intruder. Anger which had been apparent now lurked in violet eyes as he regarded Taichi. For a split second, Taichi wanted to question him. To find out what had been going on. But now was not the time. Not when Koushiro might have discovered something new on the WU. 

"After you," Ken finally spoke, his voice neutral.

"No. You go first… I have something to discuss with Daisuke," his voice was equally neutral, but with an imperceptible sharpness. 

A narrowing of flashing violet eyes was his only answer. Ken gave a brief nod and walked briskly away. 

Taichi turned his eyes away from the fading figure and looked at Daisuke. He had appeared on Taichi's side as soon as Ken began walking. 

"You okay?" Taichi couldn't help but ask, concern lacing his tone.

"Yeah. I'm alright." Weariness and a hint of strain, apparent on his face.

They walked, side by side in an uneasy silence. Taichi, unsure of how to broach the subject, wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew that if he pushed Daisuke would never confide in him.   

"Taichi," Daisuke started cautiously. 

"Yeah?" He made sure to keep his tone light and neutral, hoping Daisuke would relax and continue.

Calming slightly, Daisuke began again, " Have you noticed anything… eh… **strange** about Ken?" 

"Strange? What do you mean strange?"  

Daisuke struggled again. "Strange… as in… the way he dresses. Acts." 

Taichi frowned. Dress? Act? Taichi had seen nothing different about the purple haired genius. Sure Ken had been colder, more emotionless. But that was due to the battle they waged everyday, the pressure and stress each faced in order to be prepared for the worse. And yet, it nagged in his mind. It was something he should remember, something that had caused him much anguish at one time.  

"What do you mean, Dai?" Taichi finally asked.

Daisuke shrugged, unwilling to elaborate. Internally beating himself up at his own inaptitude, Taichi rubbed his forehead. Brown eyebrows creasing unconsciously at the pain beginning to throb within his head. The uneasy silence remained until each entered the bright quarters. 

Chairs sprawled around a large circular table. Overhead florescent lights flooded the entire room in brightness and cast grey shadows on the occupants of each room. Already the other digi-destined had seated themselves and were anxiously waiting for Koushiro. 

Reaching for empty seats, Taichi and Daisuke constrained themselves to wait for the red haired genius. It didn't take long.

Taichi watched quietly as Koushiro tiredly settled his laptop on the table, jolted into awareness at the haggard appearance of his best friend. Ruffled red hair sat on his head, stiff and unmoving. Shadowy bags lay under red-rimmed murky eyes, a direct contrast to the pallid golden skin. In other words, his friend looked like death warmed over. Twice. 

What ever Koushiro found out, it did not look like good news. 

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," he gave a drained grateful smile. "What I have found out cannot wait. 

As you all know, for the past two weeks I have been researching the WU databases, in hopes of disserting their recent inactivity." 

All eyes were trained towards Koushiro.

"What I have found out may mean the victory of the WU," Koushiro halted briefly at the sudden inhalation.  

"There are several reasons as to why we have not lost to the WU yet. One of the main reasons is the fact the WU does not have the technology to control their advances into the Digital World and out. The gates they have created are unpredictable, spontaneously carrying them to random sectors of the Digital World. Moreover, because of their unnecessary energy consumption in order to breach the Digital World, we were able to track them using the monitors Ken and I have programmed. However, everything has changed. During these past couple of weeks, I grew suspicious at their idleness. There have been no retrievals, no attacks and no word from them," he turned towards Ken. The latter gave a concise nod at the accuracy of Koushiro's statement. Koushiro continued.

"So I began to search through their encrypted databases. I found a secretive password protected log – coded of course, which made me especially suspicious. Unfortunately, it has taken me quite a while to enter and decode it," frowning somewhat at the painstakingly long time it had taken him to decode it –two weeks was just too long! - Koushiro flipped open his laptop and typed in his commands. Immediately a three dimensional image appeared above in the centre of the table, featuring a vertically rounded loop that looked like some sort of a doorway. 

"They call this a Gateway. Its purpose is to create an entrance to the Digital World without gathering enormous energy and rupturing the barriers which keep our worlds from colliding. A man-made extra large Digi port, if you will."

Nothing but the echoes of Koushiro's words swamped the room. But the small measure of tranquillity and peace was broken as many displayed their alarm and anxiety. 

Face thin with exhaustion Jyou spoke, "So this means there's noway we can tell where they're coming in, right?"

"Correct." 

"Is there any other way we could track them?" Mimi asked apprehensively, fearful of the answer but steeling herself for it nonetheless. 

"No. We cannot predict their intentions or their point of entrance until they actually arrive. We would have to use motion sensors but by then, we may be too late." Despite his fatigued, Koushiro's statements were even toned and matter of fact.

Furtive and apprehensive glances were given and received in equal measures. Stumped, none of the Digi-destines knew what to do. One of their most indispensable advantages against the WU were gone. Without knowing the WU's entry into the Digital World, Taichi knew it would not be long before they decide to attack and infiltrate their base. He also knew they would be successful and by then the Digital World would be lost, ruled and used by humans who could not understand its splendour. Digimon would be enslaved, experimented on and controlled. It would be much worse than when Ken had taken over as the Digimon Kaiser. Much worse. 

"So we wait here to die. How nice." A pale hand slammed hard onto the surface of the table. The sound reverberated throughout the chamber, echoing eerily. Takeru laughed bitterly. 

"No one's waiting to die," Ken responded quietly. 

The laughter abruptly stopped. "Oh? And what do you suggest we do… Kaiser?" 

Everyone held their breath. No sound was permeated as all faces turned towards Ken, awkwardly waiting for his reaction. The reaction, when it came, was as quick as the conflict that instantaneously invaded the tense room.   

Ken's face tightened. Violet eyes narrowed in rage and hands gripped the table forcefully. Then just as swift, his rage and anger vanished, leaving behind a smirk.

"Well, it's simple really," drawled out Ken. Arrogance and superiority evident. 

"We just destroy the Gateway. No Gateway, no problem."      


	3. Enemy

Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.

Authors Note: I have used the correct canon names for all the parents of the Digi-Destined save for the ones who remained nameless by the creators of Digimon. For those I simply picked random names. Enjoy! 

Chapter Three: Enemy 

A flame flared unexpectedly, cutting shards into the fogging darkness, illuminating the gleaming cold face of its bearer. Flicking the lighter on and off, piercing hazel eyes skimmed through the documents placed orderly on his desk. With each page examined Akira Yamaura's frown deepened into a sharp line, drawing attention to an already obvious jagged scar. In a downward arc, a knife wound left the scar running from the top of his left eyebrow to the side of his cheek, projecting a dangerous aura. Some, more of the female variety, would say he looked damn sexy, but to Akira it had always been an annoyance. It crushed his valued anonymity, providing the contracted a memorable feature and so made it that much more difficult for him to do his job. 

Not that it went unnoticed by his superiors. Fearing a possible desk job, Akira had been willing to do almost anything to stay in action. Fighting Digimon was not only his dream, but also his purpose in life. He did not know what he would do if it was taken away. It was unbearable to think about. So it was with relief when his superiors, instead of providing him with useless errands, announced his promotion to General and arranged for him to head the Japanese World Unification branch. And there he had exulted in his new position, thrilled at the chance to be in the middle of the battlefield at last. Everyone knew Japan was the place where it all began. The place where countless Digimon pierced through the barriers adjoining their world and caused endless chaos and destruction. 

Nor was the sighting of variously aged children in the midst of this crisis ignored. Unbelievable, and yet these children owned Digimon. They had the means to annihilate the threat, but they never did. Instead defeat was their only solution and those Digimon were sent back whole and alive. Ready to attack again at a moment's notice. Fools. But children they were and Akira could not fault them for that. They held notions of peace and trusted others to do the same. Fortunately, or unfortunately for the World Unification, recent events have shown them to be a more formidable opponent. Their 'naïveté' obviously lost just as they had lost many of their friends.

Akira smiled grimly. That was the price of war. To try and maintain any sort of resistance against all nations of the world would cost them highly. Including the deaths of some of the 'Digi-Destined', as they were called. It was with regret whenever Akira thought back to their sacrifice. Lives lost for a fight that should not be. But regret was only a feeble emotion, and one that never lasted for more than a short period of time. He did not feel repentant for what he did. 

It was quite ironic. Many countries have warred and been at odds at one time or another in the past with no hope of peace, no matter the needs of the people. But it was not until the Digimon came that the much sought after peace was finally possible. Every single country around the world had merged together in a front against a common enemy: Digital Monsters. 

Digital Monsters. Digimon. What difference did it make if they were called either? No matter the name they would still be as deadly, still be out of control and would most certainly destroy humanity if given a chance. He knew first hand how terrifying they could be. Thus it was only logical that he should personally handle the interviews tomorrow. He did not trust any of his subordinates not to make a blunder but was confident enough of his own skills to be satisfied. It had taken many years to train him, but the outcome was faultless.  

Glancing at his wristwatch, Akira made a quick decision. It was getting late, nearly midnight and if he wanted to be at his peak tomorrow then he needed a good night's rest. Akira stood up gracefully and stretched. Then he hunched over his desk and gathered up the masses of neatly arranged progress reports into one large pile. Reaching underneath the table, he grabbed a leather briefcase. He stuffed the pile in precisely and made his way out of the office, humming softly.

After locking his door, Akira strode briskly through the sterile hallway and past varying doors of many shapes and sizes. There were ones like his, secure and yet not unusual. Sturdy but not invincible and free for open use. And then there were ones like _that_. Enormous, heavily layered with titanium and steel, and bolt locked from the inside. 

Briefly Akira considered dropping in, just to surprise the researchers and scientists. It had been getting a bit dull lately. A smirk graced his mouth. Nah.... He would just have to terrorise them later. Waiting just made it that much sweeter.

***

"Get out now!"

"Mr Yagami, I just have some questions –."

"No! I don't want to hear it. Whatever you have to say, say it to someone else. I will not have you in my house!"

Akira stood patiently, keeping his face expressionless. "I will say this one more time, Susumu. If you will not let me enter, I will have to use force." Eyes hardened as he stared at the furious face. "I will have to arrest you and your wife. No lawyer or judge can free you. You will be under the custody of the World Unification, with its own set of rules and restrictions. Not to mention, shall we say, their own unique way of 'questioning'." 

He watched bemusedly as Susumu Yagami forced himself to move a step back and let him in. He always did like his job. Walking towards the burgundy sofa, he slowly scanned the room, taking in the differences from his last visit. Satisfied, he sat down and reached for the testor within his knee-length black coat. He withdrew a thin metallic object and flipped open the top. Coloured lines travelled across the dark screen, a set rhythm and pattern apparent as it began a faster movement.  

"Mr Yagami, would you please have a seat." The irony of the statement was not lost on the elder Yagami it would seem, as Akira took in the terse lines and sudden tension. 

"Answer my questions truthfully and I will not bother you again. For a while at least. I will talk to your wife later." Akira gave a small smile, widening it as Susumu Yagami unconsciously shuddered. 

***

Humming under his breath, Akira skimmed through the contents of the testor. Moving lines accompanying miniature images indicated a wealth of information. From the increase or decrease of body temperatures to the beating of the heart to the increase in sweat or water fluids. What a neat gadget. It made things so much easier. Not that Akira needed any extra help. He could pick up most of the emotion emanating from the Yagamis by observing his movements. And he had plenty of time to acquaint himself with the way the Yagamis held themselves. 

So it was not unexpected for Taichi Yagami to have had no contact with his parents. It had been at least a decade since he last communicated with them. Akira fumed silently. If the idiot who previously held Akira's position had been less of an idiot, then they could have gained important information on the Digi-Destined from their parents. If the contact between them had not been severed, surveillance devices could have been implanted and the World Unification could have gathered all the information they wanted. But the idiot just couldn't help himself. What the hell was he thinking arresting all of them so publicly? The Digi-Destined no doubt discovered what happened through the media and stopped all forms of physical contact. 

Well, maybe not all. He still had more families to see, though he was doubtful they would have any more information. But then, he had never been much of an optimist. 

***

"Ms Takaishi, are you sure you have had no contact with your son Takeru?" Akira asked again.

"Absolutely, Mr Yamaura." Her voice was cold. Edges of frost turned blue eyes into glaciers. "Takeru stopped talking to me the time you killed my son." If possible, her voice turned colder. Hatred leaked from every pore of her body. "I'm sure you remember. But in case you forgot, his name was Yamato!" She ended in a half shout. Grief and pain visible to the naked eye. 

"Yes. I know his name. But if you recall, I was not present when your son died," Akira stated calmly. "If that is truly your answer then I will go." 

Standing up efficiently, he snapped the testor shut and waited for the woman to regain her composure. He was used to these emotions being hurled towards him. How could he not be after all these years of making monthly reports? The families should be used to him. He had been a constant all these years during the fight against Digimon but he had also been the bearer of dreaded news. 

Natsuko Takaishi quickly wiped her eyes, letting calm overtake her instinctive surge of anger. 

"Goodbye, Ms Takaishi." Akira stepped away from the dining table, ambled towards the front door and left.

Natsuko remained seated. Motionless.

***

Akira slumped back onto the seat of his car. Exhausted physically and emotionally, he was extremely relieved he had only two more interviews. The Ichijoujis and Izumis. It was only fitting he visited them one after the other. 

As expected, the Kidos and Tachikawas were a dead end. Ever since the idiot blundered their lead, no contact had been made. But reports still have to be processed, just in case one of the Digi-Destined became too lonely and attempted to reconnect with their broken families. 

The Kidos had been overly cautious, and extremely hostile. It had taken Akira much coaxing and patience to just to reach the end of the meeting. By then his mask had begun to crack and he had fought hard to remain expressionless, blank. As with all interviews he would first ask baiting questions about the Digi-Destined, using many ways to exploit the emotive response he received. By taking away control and manipulating emotions to overwhelm, Akira found an effective method to interrogate. But without use of pain. For some reason, the Kidos were especially resistant to this method. They remained hostile and blank throughout the interview with only fleeting reactive responses to some of Akira's more blunt line of questioning.  

Not so for the Tachikawas. Now they were the easiest to outmanoeuvre, to manipulate. Their emotions were already on the forefront, ready for the use of Akira. Concern for their daughter had driven them to be careless with the enemy. Not a sound strategic if Mimi Tachikawa were to reveal informative titbits to her parents. Regrettably, no matter how easily led they were, if Mimi chose not to remain in contact this advantage would remain latent.

Shaking off his weariness, Akira straightened his back and stretched his heavy limbs. Being fatigued was just a state of mind. Now if Akira could only change the state of his mind...Mockingly, Akira snorted at himself. He was definitely going soft. 

***

Straightening the rumpled lines of his shirt, Akira mentally prepared himself to face the Izumis. His early exhaustion had taken him by surprised, which was why he was now painstakingly concealing all evidence of it. The thought was worrying. Perhaps he was getting old, his strength and mental capabilities fading like mists with the tide of time. 

This, however, did not mean he was useless right now. Letting determination flow through his system, Akira elaborately smoothed his coat and began knocking politely on the door. He did not have to wait long. 

Yoshie Izumi opened the door with a bright welcoming smile in place. Her posture was friendly and warm, a beacon for visitors to be drawn to. It vanished at the sight of this particular visitor. Perceptively her body stance immediately changed, stiffened into tight knots and lines. Warmth which had been present in lively eyes fled, leaving traces of steel in its tracks. The smile lost its welcome and became sharply edged, just on the verge of politeness. And nothing more. 

Unaffected, Akira never lost his placate expression. He let veiled traces of ice gather but gave no indication of anger. 

"Mrs Izumi." Akira finally spoke emotionlessly. 

"Mr Yamaura." She answered, using the same tone. "Please. Come in." Despite the words, it was clear to both of them that he was not in any way or form welcomed into the household.

"Before I begin, may I look through your house?" Politely, Akira waited for permission, a response he did not in reality need.

"Of course. You didn't really have to ask me Mr Yamaura," a trace of anger seeped in, "After all, the World Unification does what it wants, doesn't it." It was not a question. Yoshie Izumi bit back the cutting mixture of anger and bitterness and made her way towards the kitchen, ignoring Akira.

Not one to be oblivious to signals, Akira's lips curled and he strolled towards Koushiro's bedroom. An area which he knew very well. In fact, the entire plan of the house was recorded in his brain, establishing possible escape routes and numerous hiding places. 

Opening a plain wooden door revealed an ordinary room. More ordinary and bland than most bedrooms save for the highly sophisticated and left over technology. Neatly computer parts were stacked on a grey desk, unwhole and incomplete, waiting for unseen hands to skilfully put it back together. Shelves filled with books stood out as the massive and thick spines spoke of literature and psychology. The room was fit for a live-in genius. No bulky and fat layers of dust had settled on wide surfaces. Objects were arranged just as they were years ago. Everything was ready and prepared for the re-emergence of its ghostly occupant.        

Proficiently delving through the room, Akira expectedly did not find anything. But as always, clues hinting at the mind of the opponent were extremely useful. Taichi was the heart, his leadership skills and unquestionable strength keeping the group whole and secure, but Ken and Koushiro were the head. It was they who created the weapons, breached the World Unification security systems and ruthlessly fought back using any means possible. 

Making note of several titles from the extensive collection of books, Akira left the room. He decided, whilst turning around a corner, to have a quick glance at the entire house while he was at it. It never hurt to be cautious. And have a healthy dose of paranoia. 

Striding into the dining once again, Akira grabbed a chair and sat down. He then proceeded to snap open the metallic device. It had not taken long to skim through the house. Nothing had been amiss and no changes had been made either other then a change of wallpaper and curtains. Instinct amiably agreed with his assessment and left Akira with only the questioning to complete. 

"Mrs Izumi, shall we?" Akira spoke to the direction of the kitchen. He stared as she, hands shaking, put away some pots and moved to reach for a chair. She eventually seated herself some distance away and held her body taut.

Akira hid a smirk. He began.

***

Walking back towards his car, Akira could feel his exhaustion sliding off in rivets. The weariness clouding his mind seemed to evaporate, leaving him invigorated and refreshed. Boy did he like this job. It was only the difficult ones that troubled him. They blasted large irksome holes into his solidly structured patience giving him an overwhelming urge to...be physical. If only. 

Leering happily at the fleeting images _that_ produced, Akira opened the door to his car and prepared for one last visit. 

The Ichijouji residence. A nice middle class suburban apartment. With a nice middle class married couple. Who owned nice practical fixtures. Who would have thought two infamous prodigies lived within these walls? Akira had always been fascinated with the Ichijoujis. As far as he could tell, they were a normal married couple with average intelligence. He had even traced their lineage and no unusually intelligent or slightly psychopathic ancestor turned up. How they managed to create not one but two geniuses baffled the mind.

***

Misako Ichijouji sat nervously in front of him, clasping and unclasping her hands. Her back was rim rod straight and remained at right angles to her knees. Kotaro Ichijouji sat next to her, no less tense. 

Akira absorbed the brown and tan features in front of him. It always amazed him that such _ordinary _people could somehow manage to produce two extraordinary individuals. He stared at their curly brown hair and wondered how in the world Osamu and Ken Ichijouji inherited bluish-purple hair. He stared into nervous and frightened brown eyes and wondered how was it possible both had violet eyes. It was truly astonishing. Perhaps they were mutations, Akira mused. Lucky mutations.

"So Mr and Mrs Ichijouji, would you mind if we begin?"

They nodded.

"Do you know why your son ran away?" Akira kept his tone dispassionate. 

Confusion marred the Ichijoujis' faces. They turned to look at each other in perplexity. Tentatively Kotaro Ichijouji twisted back to his original position facing Akira and asked, "You mean fighting against the WU?"

Akira shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps."

Kotaro stared, puzzled, before a sudden sweep of anger flushed his face. "What are you implying, Yamaura?" he said through gritted teeth. 

The threat underlined in each word did not go unnoticed. Akira's lips twitched. He raised an eyebrow. "Implying? What do you think I am implying?" Akira leaned backed, relaxed. "Perhaps I am implying that your son lied to you. Perhaps I am implying that your son is not part of the group resisting us," he paused, " that instead he has left home due to your...less than spectacular skills in parenting. Again." Akira purposely emphasised on the last word and waited. 

"You...our son..." The elder Ichijouji sputtered, exploding rage blooming and flushing red upon his face. "You're lying! Ken hasn't run away! Just because of that one time...he was young, and we've made up for our mistakes," he trailed off.

He stood, body held defensively with fists clenching and unclenching. Teeth gritted again in obvious effort to control his fury. Misako Ichijouji stayed seated, her eyes stared accusingly at Akira. Glimmers of tears shone. Doubts were beginning to rise again. Good. 

"If you please, Mr Ichijouji." Akira gestured for him to sit down again. "I would like to complete this before nightfall, if you will," Akira said sardonically.

Kotaro could only obey. There was nothing he could do. Yamaura held all the cards. He had the power to do what ever he wanted, including hurting both him and his wife. Despite his compulsion to protect his son and turn away those who sort to harm him, Kotaro had no choice but to abide by Yamaura's requirements. Not if he wanted to safeguard what remained of his family. He only wished Yamaura would stop taunting them with the past.

***

Hunching over, Akira temporarily skimmed through the reports he had just written and placed in a pile on top of his desk. Light reflected upon the bare and spartan room. A bed stood in one corner, opposite to where Akira was sitting, neat and orderly. No furniture was impractical. No eccentric object stood out to announce the personality of the dweller, save for the many lighters pushed haphazardly in one drawer. No pictures or photos sprawled about on the surface of his shelves and desk. No hint of emotion.

In the midst of editing one report, a loud beat eroded the silence and echoed the room, halting Akira's progress. Leaving his reports unattended, he strode towards his opened laptop lying on the surface of yet another desk, imparting waves of malevolence and menace. 

An email had just arrived from the researchers. Gateway One was ready and set for use. Digi-Destined intervention were not expected. Computer experts confirmed no breach of security has taken place. Akira grinned in satisfaction. Finally. The war was going to end – with the World Unification as victor as it should be. 

While opening the extra attachment sent along with the email, Akira reached for a lighter. His fingers inched for the familiar feel of its shape, the sense of calm and control it gave him. It was an eccentricity many knew. Amusingly enough, some of his subordinates assumed he was an arsonist, a pyromaniac. Akira never denied the rumours. It was much more entertaining striking fear into those who worked for him. Akira smirked cruelly. No one ever said he was a saint. 

The attachment turned out to be a detailed statement on the Digi-Destined they had managed to capture several years ago. Because of her, Gateway One was possible and defeat for the Digi-Destined were imminent. Akira flicked the lighter on and off steadily as he read through the document, not for the first time wondering if he should check up on the captive sporadically. Coming to a decision at last, Akira made a note to address Jun Motomiya as soon as possible for an arranged 'meeting'. 

***

Settling in the comfortable bed, Akira coordinated his limbs in a defensive positions and braced himself. He anticipated the next couple of days with relish, excited and thrilled beyond belief at the thought of the clash ahead. 

But first, there was another battle to be fought. Akira braced himself. He gradually but reluctantly fell into a deep and uncomfortable oblivion. Muscles spasmed and stiffened. Waiting.   

The dreams came. 

Akira screamed.  


	4. Clash

Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters. 

Author's Note: Well...it's been a while. ^^;; I haven't been as inspired recently as I've been in the past with this fic so this chapter got delayed. Hopefully I'll be more inspired when I write Chp 5. Thank you for the reviews. I'm glad you guys are enjoying Akira as much as I (unexpectedly) enjoyed writing him. He was fun. 

Moerae: Are you sure you're not crazy? ^_~ Knew Akira would catch your attention. ^^ 

Apple from Mars: I too only have a vague sense of what's going to happen. ^^ 

Chapter Four: Clash 

Nothing happened. It was the most disappointing anti-climatic moment Taichi had ever experienced. He had expected gasps of excitement, eyes full of optimism and delight. What he ended up with was jaw dropping shock. Then came the staring. Not like stalker staring – at this Taichi was uncomfortably reminded of Jun and could not help shuddering – but more like communicative staring. Glances from all of the Digi-Destined were caught and held in silence, while Ken blandly tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. Certain of agreement and assent from the rest of the Digi-Destined. Arrogant bastard.   

So it was with a bit of smugness when Taichi encountered the slack jaws and perplexed faces of his companions. While he had no hostilities with Ken, in recent times his arrogance had been getting on his nerves. The way he took for granted that all his plans and orders would be followed through. The superior tone of his voice whenever he addressed them grated on Taichi like the wailing of banshees. No, Taichi added as an afterthought, it was much _worse_ than that. 

Although Ken's idea was not in actual fact bad, he knew the risks and dangers involved may not be worth the effort of getting into the tight secure headquarters. Not with 28 – 33% success rate. And Taichi was especially reluctant to lose any more of his team mates.

"It might work, actually," Koushiro's voice rang out. The silence thickened, but Koushiro took no notice. His tanned face scrunching up as he raised his hand to cup his chin. Schemes and plans swirled around his mind, transparent like the sudden glaze which overtook his dark eyes. 

Taichi frowned. He knew that Koushiro and Ken had bonded in the past. It was expected, after all. Both were geniuses. Both had to be lonely. Had to have felt like they did not belong. So it was only natural they became fast friends. While Taichi knew the loneliness they felt was not due to him being a bad friend, he couldn't help but feel a tad guilty. The fact that they actually felt they did not belong in the group was enough for Taichi to call himself a bad leader. But these were old thoughts, as tiring in the present as they were in the past. Taichi had gone through every single piece of action he could have done, every single reassuring word he could have said, and in the end realized that none of it would have mattered. What he most admired about Ken and Koushiro were the very things that would always set them apart from the Digi-Destined. From normal people. He wondered what it must have been like for them to go through life and school with a whole different mindset. To never have the same interests as those around them. To always be weary with what they say, in case it may come out too complex, or too weird if one was to be cruel. It must have been frustrating too. And at this, Taichi allowed himself a self deprecating smile. Hell, it probably would've killed them if they had tried to explain one of their wordy and intricate theories on the Digital World to him. Which was why Taichi made it a rule to nod and smile whenever Koushiro chattered on about this or that. It was the polite thing to do.  

So it should not have surprised Taichi as much as it did when they began taking each other's sides. Yet it did. At first Taichi was disturbed by this change. His uneasiness and discomfort brought to front by the very instincts that had saved his life on occasion, and which had screamed distrust at this sudden turn of events. 

Who said paranoia was unhealthy anyway? 

In the end though, it was enough for Taichi to know and recognize the loyalty and friendship each held for him. Or maybe it was just Koushiro. While Ken held grudging respect for him, Taichi in no way held any belief that he was even remotely considered as a 'friend' by the genius. Unlike Daisuke, Taichi could not breach Ken's distance back when Ken was first introduced to the group, nor could he now, when Ken was all the more unreachable.

Frowning again, Taichi sought to voice out his thoughts. To convey the sense of foreboding and unease at this risky venture.

"And it might not." 

All eyes turned towards Taichi. 

"There's every chance of success." Cool violet eyes focused on Taichi.

"And there's every chance of it not," Taichi replied firmly. "In fact, I think there's less chance of it working than what not." He paused. "And that's a chance I'm not willing to take – not when the stakes are so high." 

Koushiro lowered his eyes, unease written in the lines of his body. 

"The stakes are high, yes," Ken returned calmly, "But isn't it always? Isn't it worth a shot to destroy one of their most valuable bases? The base where they may have kept one of their most dangerous – and deadliest weapon to date." 

"That sounds reasonable – and logical when you put it that way. But anyone here could _die_. Don't you think the lives of our friends are worth thinking about?" Taichi spoke out passionately. 

"It is, Taichi. But the choice is ours." 

Stunned, Taichi turned towards Jyou. Jyou, whom caution was not just a word but a rule to live by. Reliable, responsible Jyou. The one who was siding with Ken and Koushiro, prepared to risk his own life. 

"I don't understand." Taichi said finally. 

"Yes you do," Jyou replied gently. "You're our fearless leader. The one who impulsively runs off to risk his own life without a thought or care. But you're also the one who tries his hardest to protect everyone. What you need to understand is that sometimes…we don't need it." Jyou made his tone impossibly kind, as if trying to soften the perceived blow. 

Taichi drew back, slightly hurt. He was protective of them, yes, even more so now than before…but he still did not understand. He just wanted to protect them. Save them. Doing what he should have done in the past. 

Frustrated, Taichi could only rub his eyes tiredly. He knew himself to be oblivious at times. Hell, sometimes he was just plain dumb, but surely it was not that hard to get. 

Calming himself down and gathering his wits, Taichi struggled to respond. He caught worried and concerned gazes from all the Digi Destined – except for one – and tried to smile. It worked. They relaxed.

"I guess that comes from all of you." 

Mimi said hesitantly, "Yes it does…but don't take it the wrong way, Taichi. We appreciate what you've been doing for us," her face tilted upwards, earnest and sincere. "It's just that sometimes it can be smothering. We want to do our part too. Not just be another burden." 

Taichi fell silent, but kept his face softened. The hurt had evaporated a little, but it still stung. 

Taichi sighed. "Alright…A good leader knows when he's been outvoted." 

Then he grinned. "And I'm one of the best."

***

Sometimes Daisuke just didn't understand. Or maybe he did, only just too well. He knew both the pros and cons of their mission, he knew why they needed such a plan. What he didn't understand was why it was brought about the way it did. Taichi didn't need to be unanimously voted against by their team, nor was Ken needed to instigate it. Sometimes Daisuke just didn't understand the way their minds worked. 

And if Daisuke would let himself think on it, he was angry too. He hadn't wanted to watch them on opposing sides, tension rising in waves. He hadn't wanted to watch them fight, while the uneasiness in his stomach grew worse. He didn't know who to choose, and that was the gist of it. He just plain didn't know who to choose. 

Ken was his best friend, the one who he loved and would love for the rest of his life, but Taichi was his mentor. His hero...a bit like a big brother. Not that Jun wasn't a great big sister – she was. But she wasn't here. Fortunately, Jun wasn't telepathic...otherwise...Daisuke shuddered at the thought of her reaction. 

He was also relieved and thankful none of the other Digi-Destined noticed his silence during the meeting. Or if they had, he was grateful they didn't mention it. Daisuke already had enough turmoil to deal with. First with Ken's changing behaviour and now with the added conflict of Ken and Taichi...he just wasn't sure what to do. 

First thing's first, he needed rest. Bone achingly tired, and sore all over, Daisuke was puzzled at how it all came to be. It wasn't like the old days – gees, he must be getting old – when school dominated his daily schedule and hours of soccer were his normal past time, and he _still_ had enough energy to glomp onto Ken at the end of the day. 

Shaking his head amusedly, Daisuke was unaware he had reached his sleeping quarters. He bemusedly opened the door and entered his somewhat messy room – only to find it occupied. 

Ken was sitting in his usual spot, on a rusty coloured armchair which had seen better days. It had entertained Daisuke at first; he never would've guessed that the black-colour loving genius would take to an ancient, red _thing_ as much as Ken had. Ken had been full of surprises then. Just like now, only the surprises weren't so pleasant anymore. 

Daisuke lost his smile, his expression becoming blank. The diluted anger now sprang forth, reddening his cheeks and tightening his mouth into a thin line. Daisuke resolved not to say anything first, instead he kept himself busy by puttering around in his room – and ignoring Ken. He knew Ken could never stand being ignored for long. 

"Daisuke." Right on time. Daisuke kept silent. It was always best to hear what Ken had to say first.

"I see you are upset with me," Ken paused. "But I don't know the reason why. Perhaps you should enlighten me."

"Oh? You mean you actually _noticed_ I was upset? Even when you were oh so busily focused on undermining Tai." Daisuke responded sarcastically. 

"I was not undermining Taichi. I didn't even need to! You saw how the others responded. Taichi has been very protective, an admirable quality I'm sure, but not when we are battling and every part each one of us plays is extremely important. I believe, in the end, even he understood."

Daisuke sighed. "Yes, he knew. But that's beside the point. You should have just talked to him before about this plan of yours, get him prepared. He didn't need to be hit over the head with it!"

Anger radiated off Daisuke. Anger from what had happened today and from the past, where he had watched helpless as Ken reverted more and more back...to his old self. Daisuke couldn't say it. If he did then it would come true, and if it was true then Ken was his enemy again. 

He glared at Ken and prepared himself for Ken's sharp retort. He could tell it was going to hurt, what ever he said. If anything, the narrowed eyes and terse body language was a signal for danger. Ken practically had a sign saying: Beware of the Angry Genius. 

Daisuke braced himself, half a dozen comebacks ready. He might not be as good of a debater as Ken, but he could out stubborn him easily enough. It was a very handy trick. But one that was apparently not going to be used. Instead of the expected blazing anger, Daisuke was taken aback by the sudden calm emanating from Ken. 

Eyeing Ken suspiciously, Daisuke crossed his arms and tried to figure out the source of Ken's good mood. He knew Ken had something up his sleeve, something that would ensure Ken's victory. He wouldn't be this confident if it didn't. 

Suddenly, Ken rose gracefully towards Daisuke in determined, long strides. Daisuke warily watched these proceedings, body awkwardly twisting when Ken stepped _very_ close to him. He stubbornly refused to back away though, instead leveling his eyes to Ken's and beginning a somewhat mangled version of a staring contest. What Daisuke didn't expect was the amused glint in Ken's eyes. Instantly indignant, Daisuke wanted to know what was so funny. He hadn't liked it when people in the past were in on joke he was unaware of, nor did he like it now. But Ken had never done that to him. He had always been amused by Daisuke's antics, never Daisuke himself. And that hurt more than he would have liked to admit. 

Flushing slightly, Daisuke opened his mouth to begin their argument. Before he could say a word Ken abruptly pulled him down for a kiss, meshing their lips roughly. Daisuke lost himself. Eyes closed and breath caught he could do nothing more than return Ken's kisses. Hard and rough and wet, Daisuke wrapped his arms around Ken's neck and pulled him closer. With his senses reeling Daisuke almost forgot. Almost. 

He pulled back, panting deep, harsh breaths. "I know what you're doing, Ken. And it's not going to work." 

"Oh? And here I thought I was just kissing you. There were other plans..." 

"Yeah? I'm not stupid you know. You think you can just fuck me and things will be fine again?" Daisuke demanded. 

"What makes you think I'd do that, Dai?" Ken asked quietly.

"I don't know," Daisuke sighed miserably. He was just so confused. He wanted to believe Ken, he really did, but he just couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to it. Daisuke closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out his thoughts. He opened them at the same moment Ken cupped his chin, caressing his skin tenderly. Nuzzling Ken's palm, Daisuke allowed himself this comfort. 

Whether it was a bad or good idea right now Daisuke didn't know. Unfinished arguments would only prolong their fight and he didn't want another confrontation. This one had been long time coming and if Daisuke had only managed to stop ignoring their problems earlier, they might not be having this conversation. 

His head hurt. He couldn't think, he _didn't_ want to think, only feel. And Ken had always been so good at making him feel... 

Gently closing his eyes again Daisuke murmured, "I want things to be like before." He waited for Ken's reponse, calm and tranquil, knowing what ever happened would indicate the future of their relationship. When he was met with silence, Daisuke opened his eyes and stared at a conflicted Ken. He saw the turmoil in his eyes, the indecisiveness which always made its presence known whenever Ken bit his lower lip. All this and more ordered Daisuke to comfort him. 

"What if it's not possible?" It was said so softly that Daisuke could have easily missed it. 

"Anything's possible. I just want you...not to change." He ended, frustrated.

"Everything changes." 

"I know...but I want _good _changes. I know I'm not saying this properly, and I really don't know how to say it, but I can't just not anymore." Daisuke knew he was babbling, he knew he wasn't making much sense but he continued anyway. "Everytime I see you, so focused, so – determined, I'm reminded of the – Kaizer. It's everything, Ken! Everything! Everything you do...God...even the way you dress! At first I thought I was imagining things, you know. But then you started getting mean. You started not _caring_ about people. All you wanted to do was win. And now this thing with Tai...it's like you're trying to take over." 

"I wasn't. I simply wanted – I." Ken paused. Daisuke kept silent, his cheek pressed lightly against Ken's hand. He could see Ken's struggle. Daisuke had always thought that he was the king of denial, he preferred to not know unpleasant things, but Ken had surprised him. What a pair they made. 

"And if I tried?" Ken said faintly in a sigh. Daisuke hid his smile under a mantle of seriousness, barely able to contain his relief and happiness at this victory.

"You can't just try and fail, Ken. I want you...to be you again."

"Of course I'm me. Who else would I be?" Ken said wryly.

Daisuke gave a small glare, but chose to ignore the dig since Ken had made a concession. "I want you to be the good you." 

"Not the bad me?" Ken teased, his hand stroking Daisuke's cheek in a tender caress. 

Daisuke grinned. "I might be able to live with the bad you for a while." 

"Is that so? Lucky me then…" 

Ken kissed him. Softer, tender and irrevocably sweet, Daisuke melted, tightening his arms and pressing his body closer against Ken's. The atmosphere turned surreal, dream-like in a pleasant hazy way. Daisuke didn't mind. He never wanted Ken to stop touching him, caressing his skin in that loving focused way. Never wanted to stop those warm skimming kisses along his bared throat. 

Dimly, Daisuke was aware he was being led towards his bed. Ken must be really good at this multi-tasking business, Daisuke thought bemusedly, he's nibbling, touching and moving me towards the bed all at the same time. It was amazing really. Daisuke couldn't help but let out a giggle. It was a moment before he realized Ken had stopped. That was not good. 

He pouted strategically. "Kennn…." Ken chuckled and slowly went back to doing what he had been doing. Daisuke smiled sloppily and wrapped himself around Ken. 

It wasn't long before they were moving in an age-old timeless rhythm, skin taut and shallow breaths were panted. Daisuke could feel, smell and taste Ken all around him, surrounding him in an overwhelming mist. He could feel Ken's moans, vibrating against his neck and sending pleasurable shivers, the softness of Ken's skin, lightly rubbing against Daisuke's. He could feel Ken's hardness, moving inside him, driving him slowly mad. 

Upon reaching their climax, Daisuke curled himself around Ken, comforted and secure. He fell into a deep dreamless sleep, reassured. He knew everything was going to be alright.

***

Ken waited, staring up at the ceiling. There were times when he hated himself, hated what he had done and will do. Daisuke thought he could change him, and he was partially right. For a little while Ken had enjoyed being...kind. He liked having friends, going out and just being a normal teenager. He enjoyed being what Daisuke wanted. Needed. The only regret he held thus far was in disappointing him. But as he had learnt in the past, fate was a bitch. Sooner or later Daisuke would be taken away from him. Just like the others. And the only way to fight her was to gain control of your life, your destiny. To destroy all opposing forces. By whatever means possible. 


	5. Lost

Disclaimer: Same as previous. I don't own anything (characters, digimon etc etc). 

****

**_Author's Note:_** I know, I know. It's been a while *coughs*months*coughs* but at least I haven't given up, right? There were just lots of distractions so this story got neglected but I'm hoping to do better. I have a sneaky suspicion that my writing style has changed throughout the various chapters despite my beta, Moerae's reassurances. But then, I think she's biased. Just a tad. For all those who have managed to stick to this story, I am impressed by your patience. 

**Chapter Five: Lost**

Taichi wasn't sure what had gone wrong. 

Everything that had transpired were all according to their plan; right down to the smallest details like the synchronised timing of Iori and Mimi turning towards the carefully, and painstakingly secured door while Taichi and Daisuke distracted and dispatched inopportune security guards. Right down to the determined ease in which Iori secured the timed explosive devices onto the three unexpected individual Gateways they had immediately seen; right down to the way Taichi, and his team, was seemingly successful in accomplishing their mission and directive. 

Taichi should have known it was too easy. Too effortless. He should have predicted more guards and soldiers were on their way. He should have planned for the eventual overwhelming of countless bodies, each holding weapons, and each in a defensive, and yet threatening stance. Should have, could have...These were meaningless words to a dying man. Young man if Taichi were ruled by technicalities, but really, had Taichi ever been that youthful? Perhaps during their wonderful adventures in the Digital World, back when the threats to his Digimon friends came from the evil within, instead of the evil outside, right in his own world. This, more than the ravages of time and war, had worn down and jaded Taichi. Some days he couldn't even reconcile that idealistic, hot-headed child, impatient and eager to save the Digital World as only he can, with the temperamental but calm adult, who knew only that prices had to be paid to keep his world safe. Funny, how the Digital World became his world so quickly. Ironic too, that he should lose his life in any world but the Digital one. 

Closing his eyes in respite from the crumbling destruction of their plans, Taichi only wished the lives of his team could be spared. Even his death was of no concern, as long as his team mates survived and fought another day. As long as the Gateways were unusable, they still had as chance. 

Wait. 

The explosives. 

The Gateways. 

The _timed _explosives attached to the Gateways. Taichi would have punched himself for his stupidity if he could. But since every movement was watched by unwavering enemy eyes, Taichi decided to mentally slap his head. Of course! Taichi thought exultantly, hope rising within his chest. The explosion would act as a distraction for their escape _and_ be the end of the Gateways. The perfect solution, and Taichi was too stumped by his melancholy to notice it. When had he lost that _belief_ that everything was a possibility, and that there was always hope?

He chose not to answer as he tried to subtly get Daisuke's attention. Subtly, as he knew best anyway, but it worked. It only took Taichi several rapid hand movements and lots of eyes widening and head jerking to have Daisuke's focus, and once he communicated his knowledge silently, all systems were go. They just needed Iori and Mimi to notice them and follow through their plan. Unfortunately, and Taichi thought he would never say this, Iori and Mimi were less observant than Daisuke, and Taichi despaired they would never leave this stark compound unharmed. It was with near admitted defeat when the third Gateway from the hallway, and thus their escape, shattered into a thousand – or more – metal pieces in a blaze of smoke and blue flames. Surprised, Taichi turned his eyes to his timer. They were supposed to have five extra minutes. Now was not the time to wonder, though. 

He quickly rushed to Mimi and shouted, "Let's go! Now!" 

Nearby Iori gave a puzzled frown at the remaining Gateways before he was tugged along by Mimi. Taichi caught sight of Daisuke, trapped by two guards in navy blue uniform, and struggling to find a way out. There was no torn conflict, no thought as to what Taichi would do next. He knew exactly what he had, and will do. He had a team member to help, and no one was going to stop him, not even his own self preservation instincts. 

Taichi used the element of surprise as he ran at full speed towards one blue body, hoping his momentum would distract the other guard and give Daisuke an opening. It was not a well thought out attempt at rescue, but Taichi knew it would work. What he hadn't counted on was the second explosion, stronger than that of the first, and releasing that much more energy due to its relative closeness. Taichi, as a result, landed with a grunt on the floor, only managing to dislodge the weapon in the man's hands. Surprise was on all three faces before Daisuke turned and threw a hard left punch at the armed guard. He then ran and knocked the other guard to one side, before slowing down and giving Taichi his hand. Taichi grasped at it and allowed the strength of his second in command to pull him to his feet. 

They ran. 

Pumping tired strained legs, they ran towards and past the third Gateway, in an attempt to circle around and escape through the large holes created from the earlier explosions. Taichi only glanced back once, but once was enough as he was confronted with the image of blaster guns aiming straight at them. Split second reaction followed as Taichi shoved Daisuke away from him before leaping aside to avoid the deadly burn. Taichi watched in silence, and in slow motion, as the force of his leap carried him up and into the glowing, circular surface of the third, and last, Gate. 

*`*`*

Taichi sighed in pure contentment as he floated. He felt an urgency, a need to arise. There was something he was supposed to do; a very important something. He struggled, torn between a relaxation and harmony he had almost never felt before, and the insistent call to duty. He wanted to go, God he wanted to, but hadn't he lived with the burden? Why should he? At all? Surely there was someone else to take his place...he wasn't that important, really...

*`*`*

_The spirit frowned quizzically up at the deep, twinkling sky. He tilted his head in befuddlement as waves of prism-like white rays diverged from a dark golden centre, and travelled outwards in gradually slowing velocity. He was even more confused when a large bundle was speedily dropped through the centre and heavily falling through the cold air molecules of night. As he listened to the loud thud, he trained his eyes towards the disappearing phenomenon; leaving the night sky once again shining prettily with its dark, soothing colours. _

_Curiosity was an unnamed but familiar emotion to the spirit. He had no idea of his being, nor of his creator, and yet, he was spellbound by the two-legged flesh and blood figures that were so much like himself in his world. Or perhaps, he was in their world, he would always muse, never coming to a conclusive theory. It didn't matter. He was in no hurry to discover all the mysteries this world, his or theirs, had to offer because really, did he want to leave? _

_No, he wanted to stay, and not only that but to stay near one particular flesh and blood figure, with shining brown hair and warm, warm eyes. She charmed him, with her knife edged sadness and her peaceful joy, her animated face filled with life. He watched in wonder as another life grew within her and then outside her; tiny limbs branching out and shaping into familiar arms and legs. He developed a soft longing to tousle the wildly bushed hair of the child and embrace and comfort the strong mother, but he knew it was futile to want. He was different, no matter how hard he tried to emulate those around them. _

_He allowed the dejection for a moment, letting himself feel what he hid inside during his daily excursions before brightening up, his curiosity peaked once again. The mysterious object fallen from the sky had ended up in the park, a favourite place of his, where he spent most of his time up on the trees, watching the world around him. And because he saw where the object landed, he wanted to see what it was._

_Walking steadily, and feeling much better, the spirit eyed the trees and shrubs with fondness. He liked the simple, pleasant things that were in this world, and he enjoyed nothing more than to enthuse himself into his surroundings. The mysteries were just an icing on the cake, as many of its inhabitants always say; and he just loved the exploration. _

_He twisted his lips in disapproval when he noticed the broken branches and scattered bushes circled around a prone figure, but he let it go, because obviously, it wasn't anyone's fault. He minutely, one small step at a time, made his way towards the huddled lump on the ground, wincing slightly at the remembered loud thump when said ground and prone figure met. Once he was near enough, he stared intensely into an unconscious face framed by wild, dirty brown hair. He stood still. _

_Then, his mind erupted. _

_Several images at a time trampled his mind. Memories, old memories that had been locked away and thought forgotten released themselves and suddenly, he knew. He knew what had happened. He knew how. He knew who he had left behind and what he promised. He also knew how he could keep it. _

_Gathering his strength, his will, the spirit closed his eyes, and directed himself straight into the stranger-who-was-not. He forced himself to flow into the lying body, and mould his entire being into what it once was. Flesh and blood and so very **alive**. _

_As his mind melded with the other's, as his spirit joined the other's in painful bliss, Taichi had only one thought. _

_Sora. _


	6. Recognition

Disclaimer: Same as previous. I own nothing of Digimon or its' characters and I make no profit. 

**Chapter Six: Recognition**

Mimi rushed through the intricate and similarly designed hallways, trying her best to block out the harsh, loud sounds of gun fire and detonations coming from behind her, but also keeping track of the fast-paced foot steps just to her right. She trained her eyes in front and kept a firm hand grasped around Iori's. Although Iori kept up, he was still distracted from whatever was on his mind, and Mimi was afraid to let go. 

Running around a corner, Mimi spied an empty hallway, and in the foremost on her mind, a way to escape unscathed. For a moment, concern for her separated team mates intruded on her concentration and her footstep faltered. As she neared the keypad-controlled door, Mimi regained her balance and glanced over at Iori, who was already raising his wrist and scanning their obstacle. Keying in various commands, Iori deciphered the required code to enter, and quickly pressed them on the keypad. What followed was a mad dash through the doorway, a rush of adrenaline as Iori closed the door and locked it using another code, and an immediate wariness as both Digi-Destined looked around in the eerie silence. 

Although white, the low lighting gave the walls a greyish tinge, casting misshapen shadows. Mimi visibly shivered, even as she straightened her spine in an attempt to block out her fears. Iori swept his neutrally curious gaze over the security tightened doors appearing on either side of the hallway, while Mimi peered nervously through the small slides of glass as they cautiously made their way forward. It was secluded enough for both of them to open the portals to the Digital World without being disturbed and followed by any blue bodied enemy. From the empty look of the place, Mimi concluded not many people entered here. 

As Iori fiddled with the mechanics on the device strapped onto his wrist, Mimi relaxed slightly, rolling her shoulders, and trailed her eyes through the doors on her left. Curious, she focused on one particular door, much more heavily secured than the rest with its several large bolt locks and its own coded keypad. Mimi felt a burst of renewed adrenaline, a sudden thump in her heart and the slow build up of anticipation as she walked forward, hesitantly reaching for the door. Her hands lightly pressed against the coolness of the metallic surface while her light brown eyes squinted through thick pane glass. For a moment disappointment rushed through her; nothing was inside and for some strange reason she was hoping there would be. She sighed softly, amused at herself. What did she expect? 

She turned back; brushing away the wisps of pink hair plastered onto her cheek and then stopped moving. 

_Clunk._

_Clunk._

_Clunk._

Heart suddenly beating into overdrive, Mimi strained her ears, hoping the sounds were real and not of her imagination. She gasped, "Iori! Can you hear that?" 

"I...yes. I can hear it." Iori looked uneasily around. 

"I think it's from there," Mimi whispered, nodding behind and hoping not to startle what ever it was. 

"A threat?"

"I don't think so..." 

"Let me scan the room first and then we can try to open it. Be prepared," Iori warned. 

Mimi just nodded her compliance, moving her body into a defensive stance and placing her right hand onto the strapped gun. It didn't matter that she felt unthreatened because sometimes being cautious counted. She kept her eyes on the door while Iori focused his mind onto the three dimensional thermal projection of the room. 

"There's someone in there," Iori murmured. "But whoever it is, is no threat. He or she is sitting against the door..." he hesitated, "hitting his or her head back." 

Mimi relaxed her body and turned to face Iori, sympathy and wariness warring, and expression torn. Half of her wanted to rescue the poor soul who appeared to have been traumatized to the point of no return, while the other half whispered _this could be a trick, a ruse_.

"Wait." Iori frowned, surprise glittering from his calm green eyes. "I think...no.it has to be..." he mumbled.

"Iori?"

"Mimi -- I -- We _know _whoever is in there." 

"My God...one of us? Are you sure?" Mimi said, excitement animating her face. 

"Nothing's for sure, Mimi. You know that. But -- " Iori took a deep breath. "The scanner recognizes the body type, and you know Jyou made sure to enter our physical forms as no threat to the system. Unfortunately, whether by the WU or not, something's changed. And the scanner can't tell me who it is inside." 

"I think we should take a chance," Mimi said finally, breaking the terse silence. Iori nodded, agreeing with their decision. There was no harm in helping an injured prisoner, even if it turned out to not be one of their own, and the danger was minimal since the scanner turned up with a list of wounds which would weaken their may-be-opponent. 

Breathing softly, and trying to still her growing anticipation, Mimi lightly treaded towards the door, an obstacle that she knew Iori could tear down with no problem. He was one of their experts in the tech side of things, and while most of the Digi-Destined agreed that those who could manipulate and reconfigure the Digital World needed to be safe housed, they also understood that for them to succeed, one who was knowledgeable in hacking needed to participant directly. Like now. 

Mimi stifled a fond smile as Iori muttered incoherently about safeguards and firewalls, and the stubbornness of individually coded locks. At last, when Iori broke through the system and grinned triumphantly, Mimi allowed herself to smile. The door slid open with excruciating slowness. That, or Mimi thought, my eyes are going bad. 

They viewed the prison with distaste as they entered its threshold. It was a sterile and shambling environment, Mimi noted, as she eyed the thin mattress sitting on top of strong looking metal bars, a supposed makeshift bed. Her gaze shifted left, and landed on a slumped, knee-hugging figure sitting against hard cemented walls. Eyes widening, shock fusing through her body, Mimi catalogued the dirty lavender hair. The flimsy grey material wrapped around a skinny, tall body that was curled frailly inwards. The criss-crosses of scars marring otherwise pale skin. Mimi felt a rush of nausea and sympathy. Poor girl. Almost, as if on cue, she lifted her head and laid it back with a hard thump to the wall and stared back at Iori and Mimi with expressionless eyes.

"Iori," Mimi spoke, not turning, voice strained. "I think we should go now."

"I think so too," he replied softly, already plugging in the coordinates for their Digiport. 

Mimi crouched near the girl, and gently helped her up. "Let's go." 

*`*`*

Ken hid his concern within expressionless, violet eyes as he concentrated on watching Daisuke being looked over for injuries. Daisuke was shaky and in pain but not because of any wound on the outside. Jyou had long since stopped his urgency, and began a leisure scan over minor cuts and bruises, but Ken could tell he was tense. Not from concern for Daisuke though, and Ken sighed in relief, but from a sense of loss, of unleashed grief at losing Taichi. It was a shock. Taichi, their constant leader gone, most likely dead. 

Ken ignored the queasiness in his stomach. A sting at the back of his mind. It was a very familiar and uncomfortable feeling, and it brought back uneasy memories of his brother's death, and its aftermath. 

A flash caught the peripheral of his vision, and Ken immediately turned to face it, wary and alert despite Daisuke's report of what had happened with the Gateways. For all they knew, there might have been a prototype hidden and put aside. Three Gateways had been unexpected and Koushiro had been extremely peeved that the WU had kept the information outside of his grasp. Despite his act, Ken could see beneath the surface of Koushiro's forced annoyance. It held a depth of frustration, loss and anger. Anger at the demise of a close, personal friend and Ken couldn't really blame him.      

Sober, Ken kept one hand in reach of his gun while he trained his gaze onto the large circular magnetic field that was ripping the barriers between the Digital World and the real World. He only relaxed when the gate formed into one of his own creations, a distinctive shape Ken had chosen and memorised, as soon as he had tested its usability and found it satisfactory. Not too soon however, his stance turned predatory again as not two, but three figures walked through. 

Ken kept his surprise inward while gasps and murmurs could be heard from Jyou and Daisuke. Koushiro did much the same, only he made no attempts to hide his innate curiosity, and a hint of caution. Taichi was, perhaps blessedly, forgotten for the moment. 

"Miyako?" Daisuke spoke hesitantly, gazing steadily at the familiar and yet unfamiliar features of his once dead friend. Ken struggled to reconcile the fact of Miyako's false death; her resurrection had opened the locked door of the past. Everyone had thought her dead, her Digimon destroyed. Apparently they were wrong on at least one account. 

"Come on. Let's go to the Medical Bay." Jyou was gently leading Miyako away despite his sense of deepening haste. He walked several paces, one hand placed neatly at the small of Miyako's back, before he spoke. "Give me some time to look over her and then --" He hesitated. "I'll give a full report, but I'm not sure I can repair whatever it is they have done." 

Daisuke nodded, and Ken noted the grave but hopeful faces around him. Was he the only one with misgivings? Did the sudden arrival of one of their own, after God knows how many years, mean anything other than the slim chance they would regain a fallen comrade? Perhaps it was his cynical nature but Ken was suspicious. He was suspicious of Miyako's timely reappearance and wanted to point it out. 

"Where's Tai?" Mimi asked as Miyako and Jyou faded from their view. 

Ken blinked, and decided he could wait until later. Ironic that in gaining one Digi-Destined they had lost another. Ironic, and cruel. Just as Ken has always assumed fate was. 

Daisuke lowered his head as he said softly, "He's gone."

"What -- Wasn't Tai with you?" Iori asked, confused. "Both of you were behind us. What do you mean gone?" A growing realization was dawning on Iori's face, but he refused to acknowledge it. Ken almost felt sorry for him.

"He was. But...things didn't turn out right," he near whispered. Daisuke told his story again, only monotonously. He spoke unwaveringly of Taichi's courage and unfaltering concern for them, of how he pushed Daisuke away just as the blast hit. Of how, even obscured from his view, Daisuke was aware of Taichi's shout. And the silence that reigned after the explosives detonated. Chaos followed, as guards ran in all directions to avoid the flames and chips of metal flying at full force. Daisuke only faltered at the part where he couldn't find Tai _anywhere_, _and it was so loud, so hot; Daisuke whirled around and around, looking for Tai. But he couldn't see him. Couldn't find him. Only debris and hot blue flames melting pieces of broken metal...no body. Nothing of Tai left. No time, no time...he had to go _now.

Ken swallowed. All he wanted right now was to wrap his arms around Daisuke and provide the comfort Daisuke obviously needed. 

Daisuke broke the heavy, oppressive silence. "I think we all need some time to ourselves." He added semi humorously, "Or at least I do." 

They all laughed weakly, tension broken. Ken even managed to give a terse smile. 

"Yeah, I hear that." Mimi unconsciously swiped at the unshed tears that, despite her command otherwise, were overflowing from her eyes and began moving away. "I'll see you guys later." 

As if they were all dominoes, they followed in Mimi's footsteps, each going at their own pace to their own shelter. Ken laid a gentle hand on the small of Daisuke's back and led them away back to their chambers, even as he felt a prickle along the nape of his neck. Without pause, he slanted his neck back and caught a glimpse of speculative and accusing green eyes, but kept his own face expressionless. Ken barely faltered in mid step as he raised one falsely questioning eyebrow in Iori's direction and received a slightly more confused look in return.

Turning away from Iori, and struggling not to reveal his inner turmoil, Ken moved closer to Daisuke and walked just a tad faster.

*`*`*

Takuya nervously watched as the paramedics led the unconscious man away. The man was lucky, damn lucky that Takuya had been using the park as a short cut to his new job because he had been running late. Not that he was ever really _early_, but today he had been running later than usual and so braved running through the trees and shrubs in less than adequate light because he didn't really want to face the wrath of his new, and grumpy boss. At least he wasn't a stooge with money Takuya had thought, even as he stumbled and fell face down over a large inanimate object. Upon standing, Takuya had been hesitant to touch the still form. Half fearful of what he might find (a dead, decaying body) and slightly nervous about touching someone who looked like he was injured in more places than he cared for (he really didn't want to permanently injure the poor man), Takuya bravely prodded at broad shoulders and turned the heavy bulk over. It was with a sigh of relief when he lightly patted a moving chest, looking for some form of identification. When none could be found -- _and boy was he wearing some weird clothing -- _Takuya decided to drag the body out and call for an ambulance on his cell phone. 

The ambulance arrived with its sirens flashing and shrieking at the same time Takuya was huffing and puffing, and half carrying the unmoving mass to the edge of the park. Trying to gently lower the stranger, Takouya nevertheless winced at the soft thud as the body hit asphalt. He whispered an apologetic, "Sorry," and then turned towards the people coming out of the vehicle. 

After the details were discussed -- it didn't take very long since Takuya knew zilch about him -- the paramedics said they would take him to the nearest hospital, Odaiba General Hospital. Nodding slightly, Takuya remained motionless as the vehicle started, and then before long, faded from his view. It wasn't until the lightening sky streamed into his eyes, making him blink rapidly, that Takuya realized he was late. Very, very late. He quickly took off in a dash, heart in his throat and hoping against all odds that his Mr Ohira was the compassionate and believing kind. The stranger left his thoughts just as easily as he had arrived. 

*`*`* 

Dr Jyou Kido fidgeted slightly as his companion and friend, expert neurologist Doctor Adrianna Valez sighed in exasperation. Every one of his colleagues knew of Jyou's cautious, bordering on paranoia, nature. It was one of the reasons Jyou became a doctor -- so that he could diagnose and fix whatever had gone wrong with their unpredictable and vulnerable human bodies. Not that his father hadn't nudged him into the profession with the subtlety of an anvil. But that was all right. Jyou was where he wanted to be (not including the fact that he would be airborne soon), doing what he wanted to and being in a job where he was happy. And soon they would be enjoying a series of medical seminars and conferences in Odaiba, Japan. Jyou had hoped that after viewing through the government's new institute for suffering patients, they would have enough time to visit Sora and Satoshi. It had been a while.

**_Author's Note_****: **A big thank you to Moerae who, despite being overseas and having a limited amount of computer time, managed to beta this. As you can see, things are developing in small nuances and will predictably lead on in the next chapter. The time needed to complete chapter seven remains to be seen. ^^ I'm not the fastest writer in the world and although I have planned outlines, RL is a continual busy process.  


	7. Meetings

Disclaimer: Same as previous. I own nothing. If I did, would I be a poor, starving student who is seriously lacking the funds for manga and anime? Obviously not.

****

**Author's Note:** I wonder if anybody's still reading this? crickets chirp Okay...possibly not. sweatdrops It's been months...yes...but I'm sort of losing interest in _Digimon_ (and this fic). Sometimes, though, I'd get the urge to write but not often...so...hence the long period between updates. However, since this is my first fanfic, and I'm too stubborn to discontinue this (if I did, I'd feel as if I failed somehow), I will keep on writing. Even if it takes me years. O.o

Much thanks to **Moe** who beta-ed.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Meetings**

* * *

Yawning from jet lag and stretching out tired and cramped muscles, Jyou let out a sigh of relief. Back on land at last and none the worst for wear. If you didn't count the tension and stress Jyou had experienced once they went over the sea that is, and no doubt Adrianna wasn't going to let him off easy. He mentally prepared himself for the inevitable days of teasing but gave a small smile anyway. He didn't mind, really. Not like he wasn't used to it and he had to sheepishly admit, he deserved some of their ragging.

"Hey." A bump on his shoulder signalled Adrianna's awakening presence. "Argh...let's get up and go. I'm feeling like a zombie." She grimaced and stood unsteadily.

"Well, we do have a very nice hotel ahead of us. If we can make it without falling asleep on our tired, aching feet." Jyou wasn't in any better condition. Tired, with sore eyes and numb body parts, Jyou simply wanted nothing more than a nice hot shower and some stomach-rumble inducing food. Definitely the food, but shower first. He felt too sweaty and dirty for his liking, and knew Adrianna felt the same, except she would suffer several nights of extreme torture before admitting she did. It was the basis of her pride and who was he to spoil it for her?

They got off the plane in relatively one piece despite their weak pace and drunken bumping, though Jyou blamed that last one on Adrianna. He was walking perfectly okay, albeit slowly but Adrianna kept shuffling and twisting until she finally bumped into one thing or another. She squinted at the said object, either a person or a pole, and mumbled some form of apology. Jyou thought it was a very good thing that she was taking little steps because otherwise, the momentum at which she had hit that concrete pole would have concussed her, and then where would Jyou be? Carrying a semi-comatose body as well as all their luggage, of course. Jyou grimaced and thanked the powers that be.

It was with a mixture of relief and dread when they finally collected their luggage at the busy airport and hailed a taxi. On one tired, shaking hand, they had stopped walking and could finally lie down and relax. On the other tired, shaking hand, they had to sit -- after hours and hours of sitting on an airplane. Adrianna wasn't taking the time to ponder. She immediately set it upon herself to take up as much space as possible, sprawling all over the back seat and eventually over all of Jyou's area as well.

Jyou sighed.

**.....**

Jyou was impressed. The sponsors apparently spared no expense when they decided to promote the field of medicine and science by organising a week of conferences and discussion groups to advertise and lure future students everywhere. Those who were lucky to be selected by their schools were allowed full membership, much like those who were already in the medical profession. It was a nice blend, and richly mixed so that experiences from the older generation could tell tales to the younger while their groups went through conference after conference, and eventually a tour to some newly acquired hospital additions in their vicinity. As well as that, all their living accommodations were seen to and provided for.

Jyou was immensely glad because he doubted that even with his slightly above average salary he could afford to stay for a week in this hotel. Not without worrying himself into the ground over how much he was spending anyway. Needless to say, the hotel was beautiful. Inexplicably full of splendour and luxury, and awe-inspiring in its glossy furnishing.

He was going to enjoy this week. Very, very much.

**.....**

"This is perfect," Adrianna sighed contentedly from her bed, an empty tray next to her prone, but deeply breathing form. She had closed her tired eyes in exhaustion once she finished her meal, and the warm, clean feeling leftover from her long soak in the shower only served to lull her into sleep.

Jyou smiled and leaned back against his own pillows. He was as full and comfortable as he could ever be, and simply just wanted some rest. Which wouldn't be a very difficult thing, he concluded when he saw the silky white bed sheets and collapsed on top of the softest mattress he had ever the pleasure of lying on. And that was the point at which Adrianna ridiculed him for his creature comforts before turning around and doing the same thing to her own. Jyou just arched an eyebrow and repeated what she had told him, and received a face full of pillow for his effects. He supposed he didn't mind since Adrianna wanted the pillow back anyway, and after pretending to not hear her narrow-eyed commands for the first few moments, and receiving a threatening fist in the last, both of them went to sleep in a comfortable and good willed atmosphere.

Just as Jyou fell into an exhausted, deep sleep, he mentally reminded himself to call Sora at the very first opportunity.

**.....**

Morning light had a habit of cleansing away the austere, gloomy atmosphere, and lending a sheen of warmth to even the most coldest of places. It brought in hope, and instilled an illusion of comfort and happiness, and the young, nameless man couldn't help but fall into its spell. He didn't want to of course. The circumstances dictating his situation was not what he would term 'hopeful', nor should he be, given his amnesia, but maybe in some past life, some past incarnation, too much hope had spilled over and now he was overwhelmed by its effects.

He couldn't even remember his own name, let alone any decent memory of his past, but the one thing that had stood out once he had transferred from the hospital and into this what-ever-it's-called institute, was his intrinsic, carefree attitude. It was like he was _expecting _everything to turn out okay; like he somehow _knew_ it would turn out all right. It amused and exasperated him to no end, but he wasn't sure if he wanted it to go away. Everything just seemed so much better. And he knew for certain the staff members here approved of his positive outlook, even as they scolded him good-naturedly for complaining about the bland taste of his food.

Well, it was true, he thought with an inner childish pout, as he idly, but not quietly, waited for Ryou to show up with their breakfast and then begin the whole morning routine of eat, exercise and do nothing. _I would kill for some greasy junk food._ _God knows I miss it_. He sighed with great sadness and leaned back onto his pillows.

This place wasn't so bad. It wasn't exactly what he had pictured, but at least it was better than the hospital. The bed was neat and tidy and white, and the room might have been a bit bare, but the walls and furnishings were all painted in earthy rich brown, dark forest green and probably some mixture of the two. He even had his own desk and closet -- both of which were newly polished of course, and shone with a brown patterned gleam. Nearly everything was new, or so he had been told by the head of the institute, a middle aged, grey-haired man who didn't smile, but had looked at him with something akin to kindness. He had learnt soon enough that this institute (he couldn't remember the name, appropriately enough) had been newly established, and was built especially for patients like himself: those who needed shelter but was well past the need for urgent medical care. The demand for patients had increased, he was told, but the supply of hospital rooms and beds hadn't, leaving patients who had nowhere to turn to by themselves. This had been a growing concern for a while until the government finally took action to bring about a solution. He thought wryly that it was likely the act of a waning politician who wanted more votes to keep his seat, but kept this uncharacteristic sarcasm to himself. Truth to be told, he wasn't sure where it had come from either, and was moderately relieved when the topic changed to the mundane matters like the designation of his room and board.

"Yo," Ryou said cheerfully from the other side of the door, interrupting his thoughts. He then knocked redundantly, and entered the room.

"Yo, yourself," the brown-haired young man said as he sat up and made a face. "Don't tell me," he groaned. "More tasteless, inedible food."

Ryou snorted in amusement and just handed him the tray. "I'll have you know, these are perfectly edible and nutritious."

"You lie," he accused Ryou as he prodded at the cereal or porridge or what ever it was that he couldn't quite name. He supposed it was a good thing that it didn't twitch.

Ryou just grinned with twinkling brown eyes and said, "Oh, suck it up. It's not going to kill you."

"It might." He glared down at the suspicious bowl.

"Then I'll just drag your heavy carcass out of here and bury it," Ryou called out, as he left the room to make his rounds.

"Oh thanks so much," he muttered as he eyed his breakfast warily. He ended up eating it anyway but that didn't mean he couldn't complain. In fact, he had made it his daily goal to at least whinge once to no less than two staff members. Particularly Ryou and Shien, since one brought him his meals and the other cooked it.

After he finished the meal reluctantly (he still couldn't decide whether it was porridge or some type of warm cereal), he decided to get up and take the tray to the kitchen. It wasn't as if he was injured or anything, and he knew that out of most of their patients, he was probably the luckiest. He didn't know much -- practically everything -- about his past, but he did know he was brought in by some kid who had found him unconscious in the park. There were theories about being mugged or attacked, but for some reason, he felt they weren't right. Both options could easily explain away the absence of his wallet and ID, the concussion he arrived with, as well as the dislocated shoulder, the broken ribs, and several cuts and bruises, though the reason for his clothing style was still a mystery. He mused that he must have had some wacky style. Well, good for him then.

Walking out of his room and closing the door with a solid click, he carried the tray and the dirty bowl carefully. His attention was caught, however, at the commotion in the common room. He was instantly curious but didn't want to be caught holding the tray so he rushed to the kitchen, whinged to Shien -- "Man, you need to learn to cook. Couldn't you make burgers or something?" -- grinned impishly when Shien gave him the finger with laughing-glaring blue eyes and threatened to to gauge his eyes out with a large serving spoon, and rushed right back to his position several paces from the common room. He stood thoughtfully for a moment and contemplated the consequences of his impulsive actions, and then shrugged sheepishly before he walked right in. He'll do some damage control if he needed to -- right after he satisfied his curiosity.

There were talking. Lots of talking and laughing and just general enthusiastic chattering from a lot of strangers. The brown-haired young man had never bumped into them before; nor did they look like any patient of the institute either. Before he could puzzle out the pieces though, a blue panicked blur caught the edge of his vision and he turned to stare at the shocked bespectacled, blue-haired, blue-eyed, young man who was looking at him with an pallid, sickly expression. Before he could say anything, the man pointed at him and fainted. Scratching his head in confusion, he idly wondered if the man had a heart attack or something. Someone should get a doctor, he thought, and glanced around.

**.....**

Sora sighed sadly, shivering within her grey coat even though the weather was far from cold. She was maybe a little amused, and a little sad at that. Taichi loved the summer, but didn't care much for the winter or rain. And he definitely wouldn't have wanted Sora or Satoshi to walk around in gloomy, frosty weather just to visit him, so he would have been glad to know that today was a lovely, warm day, with just the right amount of cool breeze to keep away the humidity. Sora squeezed the hand clasped within hers, and looked down at her son; who was looking around with fascinated brown eyes and walking enthusiastically by her side.

She smiled slightly, and this time, there was no sadness; just gentle affection and a bright outlook for the future.

"Are we there yet?" Satoshi asked, tilting up his tanned face and squinting from the glare of the sun.

"Nearly there," Sora said firmly.

It was a routine of a sort for them. Every time they visited Taichi, which was becoming less and less, Satoshi would always ask about their progress just before they reached Taichi's marked site, and Sora would always reply the same. Nevertheless, her son always asked and Sora would always answer, and then they would reach Taichi's grave and begin another routine: talking to Taichi about their lives thus far.

Sora started off with a melancholy, 'Hello, Tai' and ended with a 'Miss you always'. In between, was filled with a variety of things -- the exasperation and fondness with which she viewed her occupation as a coach (one of the best, or so her reputation stated), the annoyances and happiness in her daily life (she still didn't like doing laundry, but at least her cooking had improved and become edible), and last, but not least, Satoshi, their wonderful son. Sora was grateful, extremely grateful for Satoshi. There were times when thoughts of a life alone without Taichi, but also, without Satoshi filled her mind and made her shiver in ways that had nothing to do with the cold. These thoughts were quickly shut away behind a knocked door marked 'Do Not Enter', but still, they made an impression, and afterwards Sora would check on Satoshi, just to make sure he was there. She told Taichi this mentally though, not wanting Satoshi to view this visit as anything other than a venture to talk to his father, with whom he had never met.

Satoshi spoke with a child's enthusiasm and a child's delight. No more than five years old (time had passed quickly -- much quicker than Sora had realised), he was like one of those energiser bunnies. Always on the move, playing, running, walking -- at least until he fell into an exhausted sleep, and then Sora would carry him off to bed to tuck him in under soccer ball patterned covers.

He spoke about school, about the ickiness of homework (it sucks), of how he was going to learn how to ride a bike like the older kids (way cool), and most of all, how he just _loved_ soccer. _Gonna be just as good as you, daddy._

Sora smiled gently as Satoshi said his goodbyes. She sighed, and lightly tugged his hand. "Come on. I think it's time to go home."

"Okay, mama."

The walk back home took about fifteen minutes, nearly ten if Satoshi hadn't been distracted by the ice-cream stand ("But mama...ice-cream tastes better if you have it before lunch"), and once they reached their apartment on the eighth floor, Sora headed straight for the kitchen while Satoshi ran right to the lounge where the TV was.

Sora paused along the way as she caught the blinking red of her on her phone. A message then, she thought curiously, as she pressed a button. A familiar voice spoke, and her face lit up with a smile.

_"Hi, Sora. It's me Jyou, but I'm sure you already knew that, what with my voice and all. Remember that seminar/conference I was telling you about? Well, guess what? I was selected to go! Great, isn't it? I'm having the time of my life here -- despite that dreadful plane ride -- but I digress. You wouldn't believe the hotel they have us in. I couldn't believe it myself. Oh, what am I doing, rambling on like this. I was just calling to see if maybe I could visit? Hope it's not too much of a hassle but it'll be great to see you and Satoshi. I guess that's pretty much it -- you have my number. My cell phone number that is. See you soon!_"


End file.
